


The dedicatory of Cayde-6

by Ra_Sun_Breaker



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Completed, Memoir, just vent writing, we all miss cayde-6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ra_Sun_Breaker/pseuds/Ra_Sun_Breaker
Summary: With Cayde-6 dead, he can only be carried on in the hearts and the minds of those who lost him. His work is never done, so it is the responsibility of one of his brightest to carry on his duty.





	The dedicatory of Cayde-6

_"S... Dregs speeder squad... spotte... advised, in the Europea.. I say again, EDZ West..."_

Radio static crackled to life through the intercoms, but they were unable to be heard through the helmet that had been set aside. The sleek black helm in question was the crowning piece to the _Wing Contender_ model, with an intimidating blast shield that obscured the face. It was juxtaposed safely against the seat of a sparrow, the worn fine leather on the seat of the summoned bike contrasting drastically to the smooth metal and carbon fiber of the helmet. Again, the radio had crackled to life, but the statements being spoken by Zavala were long since disregarded and had fallen on deaf ears. The owner of the shroud was not seated far away, the Guardian's back to the sparsely ridden mountainous road outside of the European Dead Zone.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, many yellow beams that were fading into a softer hue of orange cutting through the hilly ranges and the dense forests. The sheer cliffside that the lone guardian was seated upon was facing almost directly west, which was obvious from the way that the entire cliff had been bathed in the gentle oranges and reds that were forming as the distant swells in the land threatened to swallow up the sun and shroud all that the light touched in darkness. The breeze that swept over the mountainside caught in disheveled, short pink hair, blowing the strangely covered locks about and strewing them haphazardly to the left. This small inconvenience was dully regarded by the Guardian, who did nothing to fix it. Sharp, scarred cheekbones were captured perfectly by the softer rays of the sun, the definition of the facial features present. The color provided by the sun highlighted the brown freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks, and even then they were few and far between. Her lips were drawn into a tight purse, her expression blank and unreadable as she cast her eyes out to the setting sun. Her concentration was currently out on the sinking sun that was almost directly ahead of her, tired and weathered brilliant blue eyes focused on not one target. One finely armored leg was dangling off of the cliffside, moving only when the wind had instructed it to, and even then it had not been by much at all. The other leg was tucked beneath her lithe, armored body, and her dirtied and lightly tattered alabaster cape was gently swayed by the wind that ailed it. The crinkles in the fine, faded white material were darkened by the shadows cast over it, though this was not enough to obscure the five red circles following the slope in perfect alignment.

A very intricately carved set of gauntlets clung taut to the sculpted hands and forearms of the guardian, hidden behind a sleek, slip-resistant pair of reinforced gloves. Her clawed right hand was placed a mere few inches away from a gold plated hand cannon, the main exterior of it decorated in fine white steel. A labyrinth of swirls and complex designs lined the silver and gold plating found all over the weapon, giving it the perfect allusion to _Casa Blanca_ in the purest form, accented by the decorative spikes lining the muzzle. The sun rays kissed the gold of the well polished and cared for weapon, giving it an otherworldly appearance as it sat casually next to the user who treated it more as an extremity than a separate item. While the item in her left hand had not been nearly as captivating, it was just as important with all things considered. Far more valuable when sentiment is considered, pragmatically speaking, more so than some banned vanguard weapon. Inspecting the item revealed it to be a cape, very neatly creased into the design of a trifold, and gingerly placed atop it was a clawed hand, hiding away the fine yet worn embroidering on the face of it. The color scheme was strikingly familiar and invoked a sweet sense of nostalgia to any well-seasoned hunter who laid eyes upon it. The value of it was far more than anything this guardian had on her person.

This hunter in particular was no other than Rias, fabled war hero, donned in an almost complete set of the _Wing Contender_ model. She had lacked the grips, however, as the _Sealed Ahamkara Grasps_ were far more valuable when considering dexterity and general use, as well as donning the _Cloak of Five Full Moons._ In the clutch of her left hand was the telltale insignia, not visible from any angle save for the front. A red ace of spades, present in the foreground of a black cloak. Various reds, greys, blacks, and even splashes of white adorned this tatterdemalion cloak that had indubitably witnessed far better days. The far off look of Rias had only further confirmed the objective of the evening-- there was no planned combat, and there was no senseless violence. The sunset was a sure sign that her hour of mourning would come to an end, and she could continue on after spending precious time reminiscing in the memory of Cayde-6, the mentor of all hunters before the defection of Uldren Sov. _That bastard got what was coming to him._ Although there was hate in the way she spat his name with an internal monologue, Rias let none such emotion to grace her features. She did not feel her boiling spite for him any longer, as so much time had passed already. There were new events, new wars, and new enemies who reared their ugly heads. Time had never paused for a single soul-- and it would not start now. A deep, steadying inhale was drawn through the nose of the veteran guardian, further relaxing her posture as her anger was vented through the simple act of breathing.

Perched on the cliff was a deity, perhaps, but in her hand was an immortal. Sharp ears had caught the approach of a speeder not far behind, and Rias saw it fit to wrap up her smoldering, and her long-overdue contemplation. She had Cayde's duty now, in a sense, and was now training new guardians under her wing, as requested by Ikora. She had declined many times before, insisting that she was a lone wolf and nothing more, but had long since proven herself. Perhaps these newer guardians would be capable of bringing some emotion back to her life, after the loss of her very first fireteam. New ones will come. _They always do._ _Your work will never be finished, Cayde. Your job will never be my burden-- no, rather, it is my opportunity now. I hope to make you proud._


End file.
